May’s almost over now. That means school’s probably almost done for you. Congratulations! One year of college! The hard transitional part is over. It’s pretty smooth sailing from here as long as you keep on top of assignments. I like to camp out in the library about that. And drink coffee, but you got to coffee long before I did.
I got my dry cleaning from Cambridge on Saturday. This time I was at King’s Cross again and the train was at Platform 10: I bothered to take pictures. There is no wall between Platforms 9 and 10, just trains. I did not care to do the “take a picture with the trolley in the wall” thing (Rowling’s bigotry has thoroughly soured Harry Potter to me) but I took a picture of the wall trolley. There were also guys around it wearing neon vests that said “Platform 9 3/4 Security” which made me feel like I was hallucinating a bit. England sure is a place.
If you wanna go to Hogwarts, you have to jump into the Train Pit.
Anyways, the vintage clothes survived the dry cleaning process! Somehow the cat pee smell is completely gone. The real wizards are clearly at Cambridge North. I had lunch at a local cafe then skedaddled back to infinite train world. A little boy, maybe three, told me “Please do not do it” while I was opening and closing my fan repeatedly. Imagine that in a little British accent. It was so cute I stopped. The only anglophilia hiding out in my body is reserved for little English children saying things. Mummy may I have some choc-let?
Immediately afterwards, a heatwave hit. Walking back to my apartment I got a mini-heatstroke and had to lie in the bathtub for awhile. I felt genuinely sick. It’s quite humid here which makes 80+ degrees a terrible time. I’ve been hiding inside ever since really. I ventured out to get groceries a few days ago, waited for the bus to get back to my apartment, and listened to two guys on either side of me have an argument about Brexit while waiting. It was still better than walking in direct sunlight. It should cool down soon, thank god. I wasn’t built for this. The UK has no air conditioning in houses! It’s awful! Cooking in our red-brick ovens! Pray for me. And pray it happens again while Mom is here because she keeps going “it was 116 when you were born and I was still cold!” so she can suffer as well.
With love,
Alice